


I Can't Help You

by A_disturbedtable



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Addiction, Angst, DNF, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Partying, Smoking, Substance Abuse, dreamnotfound, toxic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_disturbedtable/pseuds/A_disturbedtable
Summary: They were perfect for each other, truly soulmates, but then George becomes a victim of addiction. Clay tries to help but is getting tired of the constant arguments.''The monsters were never under my bed.Because the monsters were inside of my headI fear no monsters, for no monsters I seeBecause all of this time, the true monster has been me.''
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 9





	I Can't Help You

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter takes place right after an argument and George goes out to drink.

The ground swayed back and forth gently beneath his unsteady steps. The world, increasingly getting harder to clearly understand, everything in his line of vision spinning, dancing along with the stars in the sky painting a pretty image. Every minute that passed, the liquor in his right had progressively decreased in quantity until the booze was just a figment of his imagination.

Sipping out of the empty glass, disappointed at the non-existent burn of liquor travelling down his pitiful throat, pained by the mix of alcohol and tobacco that he'd consumed throughout the blurring night. By the next day, most events of the night would be forgotten, a harsh fog obscuring the memories, leaving it up to his imagination to piece them together.

Floundering back towards the bar in hopes of his glass being restored back to its foregoing state. Chucking down a twenty, pleading with the concerned bartender for a refill, far gone past the worry of his expenses. After far too long, in his opinion, the bartender returned with a full glass which would undoubtedly worsen his current state in a mere matter of minutes. He crept towards the exit, having trouble navigating his feet on the ground sturdily without clinging onto something for dear life. Following his escape outside, he grabbed the packet of Marlboros out of his denim pocket, carefully lighting the cigarette as he held it dear, between his teeth.

Taking a long, pleasant drag of the cigarette, temporarily subsiding the addicting hunger that remained any time he failed to have a cigarette between his pink lips. Revelling in the dangerously familiar feeling of the entire ordeal. He clumsily reached inside his pocket once more in look for his ignored phone, clutching onto it. The screen illuminated the surrounding area, the intense light paining George's eyes. Seeing the countless amounts of messages from Clay apologising for one of their newer arguments. Scoffing, he opened the app, ignoring the texts. Two dials later, the man on the other side of the call answered. In the exact moment of pressing the call icon, he had an exact plan of where he wanted the call to go. Unfortunately, in his current state, this thought wouldn't last long. It left just as quickly as it came.

''George?'' His voice was rough, clear of recent sleep.

''George, what are you doing its 4 AM?''

Forgetting why he called in the first place, trying to find an answer to his question yet failing.

''D'yo kno-w what fuuckk yo-u.'' Slurring on every word, clearly having no clue what he was saying, hiccuping in between words. 

''George...are you drunk?'' He knew the other man was drunk beyond belief, asking the question more as a procedure rather than to get an actual answer. Understanding his so-called 'habits'. He more often than not tried to push away his issues rather than face them, smoking and drinking them away, forcing them to retreat till it was a distant thought at the back of his head. This 'issue' happened more than he would like to admit. 

It started as innocently smoking infrequently with Sapnap, every now and then, just for fun, not realising he was gradually getting reeled into the unrelenting cycle of addiction. Typically, if something gives you amusement and relaxation, you tend to go back to it, right? This is where his issue stemmed from slowly increasing his intake and how much he started to subconsciously rely on the weed to ease the pain, which was far too dangerous to face alone, unfiltered.

He didn't realise how bad it had actually gotten. Admittedly, he had frequent arguments with Dream. He would always reassure him he was fine and didn't need help, denying all the claims of his own addiction. This couldn't be further from the truth if he tried. Dream never believed his endless reassurances, though. Noticing all the red signs before the other even deemed it as a possibility. Slowly watching as he became a broken, different, harsh person ridden with his demons. Stark compared to his caring, loving younger self that Clay had no choice but to fall head over heels in love. 

Clay painfully watched the man he loved and cared for turn to substances for help, knowing he could do nothing to help, to change his ways. George had already been down this cycle before Dream helped him nearer the end. But this relapse was one hundred percent worse: George was pushing everyone he loved away, isolating himself, worsening the problem.

It tore him apart every time he would get into arguments about the man's ever-growing addiction. Every time he would get a drunk call at the god-forsaken early hours in the morning, it tore him apart every time he remembered the man he used to be, the version of him without the frequent drugs and booze. Spilling back to reality.

''No... i-mm n-oot druunkkk.'' He gigged the questionable sentence out, so clearly being drunk even a blind man could spot it. So distinctly fed up of the other man's bullshit, he huffed pinched his forehead, not thinking he would have to help his... what was he to the other man now? That's not important at the minute, he thought, chasing off all the ever-rising saddening thoughts.

''George, where are you. Are you safe?''  
''I-i doont wa-nt to-oo g'home dreaamiee. I-i'm havving soooooo muc-h fu-hiccup-n wif-out you.''

Wincing at the loving nickname, knowing he wouldn't hear it every day when he awoke like he was ungratefully used to. Or when George had erupted in a fit of giggles with Dream endlessly staring adoringly at the older male. In the golden hour, his eyes would no longer be graced with his perfect face, his perfect everything. George was his drug, and he had him wrapped around his dainty finger. Thinking back at how undeniably ungrateful he was, not savouring every lasting second, he remained in presence with the elder, not worshipping the perfect male.

Tired, irritated and now sad, Clay just wanted to get the other male safe and continue with his life as George had wished during their heated argument.

''Just tell me where you are, George. I really can't be asked. I'm tired. It's 4 AM, and I get a drunk call from you, screaming at me. Why did you call? You said you never wanted to speak to me again.''

Hiccups were evident from the other side of the call.

''M-kay fiinee fun spo-hiccup-nge. I'mm atttt...'' 

His vision was blurry, having issues reading the road name or having troubles just doing anything for that matter. Everything seemed to get drastically worse, his body betraying him. Sudden warmth soared through his body. His whole body trembled. The much too familiar feeling of darkness rapidly spreading throughout his body, travelling up his spine, rendering his body useless, limp on the abrasive stone-cold pavement. A thud was heard through the other side of the call, upon his phone smacking the concrete ground, adding to the collection of cracks.

After hearing a thud to the ground and no response to his shouts, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a jacket, hurriedly putting them on. 

''Shit.''

He still had no clue where George was. He failed to tell him before he passed out. He checked Snapchat, but he hadn't been on it in hours. His location wasn't detected. Searching his brain for an answer to his findings of George.

''HOLY SHIT SAPNAP.''

Sapnap was always one to attend the parties. He regularly accompanied George when he knew he was out, smoking weed, and god knows what. Opening up the phone app, rushing to Nick's contact.

''Nick, do you know where the fuck George is? He called me drunk and then passed out, and I have no idea where he is.''

He rushed over his words, desperate to save his George, knowing he passed out on a random street, thinking about what sick fucks could be doing to him.

''Woahh, chill, dude. Urm... I saw him at the bar next to 7/11, like half an hour ago getting so fucking drunk, then he like went outside to smoke or some shit I-i don't know man didn't see him after that.'' Nick was ostensibly high. He knew, by the way, he slurred his words and his calm demeanour at a serious topic, why did he have to be friends with such stupid people. 

Recognizing exactly what bar Nick was talking about. He'd helped George get home safely out of that one many times.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading  
> Please leave feedback if you want  
> <3


End file.
